American Way

The American Way

For a year I lived in Oregon. It was the best year of my relatively
young life and I would return in a heart beat. The town that was home
to me was called Corvallis where I was attending Oregon State
University (Go Beavers!). I've tried explaining to people why I enjoyed
my time there so thoroughly. I've relayed the stories of the trips we
took. Oregon's placement on the west coast means that it is within
spitting distance of some of the country's most spectacular
attractions. With my new found friends I travelled around California,
took a trip up to beautiful British Columbia, sipped coffee in Seattle,
was dumbstruck by the over whelming city of Las Vegas and marvelled at
lakes, rivers, waterfalls, buildings, holes in the ground and all the
other things that tourists gravitate towards. And, as memorable and
exciting as these visits were, I don't think that's why I enjoyed it so
much. Certainly that was a part, but there was something else. And that
something else was the Americans. As a nation they may be arrogant and
obnoxious but as individuals Americans are generous of spirit and very
likeable. I've never felt more at home. The British are, as a nation,
reserved. And that's fine, there's dignity in that. Talking to a
stranger in Britain is like, well, talking to a stranger. In America
talking to a stranger is like meeting a long lost relative. I always
felt that Americans were on the verge of inviting me home for dinner
and offering me their son, brother, or some other male relation's hand
in marriage. And this was after a few minutes. After an hour you've got
a friend for life. After a few days they're telling you they love you.
This takes getting used to. But as soon as you do it's liberating. Of
course in many cases this over exuberant friendliness is false. But,
quite frankly, who cares? I'd rather someone pretend to be nice to me
than be rude to me. And in a lot of cases I think it's genuine. Most
Americans I met honestly wanted to be friends with everyone. I've heard
from other globe-trotting Brits that the Americans they met in big
cities on the east coast were either rude or brusque. So, this
affability may be a trait confined to smaller towns like Corvallis, or
a characteristic of the west coast. I can't really comment. Either
that, or I was just lucky. I'd like to think not, I'd like to go on
believing in the good natured and welcoming American spirit.

Moving on; people say that Americans are dumb. I'd love to be able to
refute that. But I can't. Not to say all Americans are stupid, indeed
many of them are smart and savvy. But it's a few bad apples that spoil
it for the bunch. Mostly it's just a lack of any conception of the
world outside the United States. My two favourite responses to my
telling Americans I was from Britain were; "Britain. That's near
England, right?" and "What language do they speak there?". And these
were college students. It's also a popular misconception amongst
Americans that everyone in England knows everyone else. Another common
response to 'I'm British' was 'I have some friends in Nottingham, the
Browns, do you know them?' (not always Nottingham and the Browns you
understand, those are random examples chosen purely for illustrative
purposes). Although I can see the logic behind that one. If you're a
Brit living in America you develop a kind of radar for other British
accents, at least I did. So, I knew most of the other British people
living in Corvallis. I guess the reasoning goes something like 'if all
the British people in my town know each other then everyone in Britain
must know each other'. It's obvious, really. Another great example of
American stupidity is a story about the Oregon State Highway Division
(OSHD). A dead whale was washed ashore on the Oregon coast somewhere.
For some inexplicable reason the OSHD took over the removal of the
carcass. It proved impossible to move it, it being a whale and quite
large and heavy and the OSHD having, apparently, very little in the way
of sense. This is made even more apparent by their solution to the
problem which was this: They would blow up the whale and the seagulls
would eat the debris. Some bright spark got hold of a lot of dynamite
which they positioned around the dead animal. Then they blew it up. But
instead of dainty little pieces of whale meat suitable for a seagulls
lunch, they got great car-sized chunks of meat falling from the sky.
The seagulls who were supposed to be eating the whale had been scared
off by the blast but, even if they'd returned, they would have been
more at home living in the bits of dead whale than eating them. The
evidence seems overwhelming that Americans are not only crap at
geography, but have absolutely no common sense. And maybe it's true.
But they're naivety and guilelessness only endears them to me further.
And, to be fair, the percentage of the population that would blow up a
dead whale is probably quite small.

Now I feel guilty about portraying Americans as dumb so I'll say more
nice things. Oregon is a fantastic state. It's overshadowed by
California to the south and Seattle to the north, so it struggles for
something to distinguish itself and never really manages it. You even
have to explain to some Americans where Oregon is, and almost no-one on
this side of the Atlantic knows it. Because, why would they? It's only
National Park is Crater Lake which, while striking, pales in comparison
to the Yosemite Valley in the state below. Oregon's other claim to fame
is marionberries, which grow in Oregon and Oregon alone. Or so I'm
told. And, that's pretty much it really. Except that Keiko, the whale
from Free Willy, lived in one of the aquarium's on the coast for a
while. But doesn't any more. And some movies are filmed there, but
never actually based there. Oregon doesn't really have a lot to mark it
out. It's simply the state you drive through to get from Washington to
California. Although don't tell any Oregonians I said that, they're
fiercely proud of their state. And rightly so, I might add. It is a
beautiful state, the scenery is stunning and the locals are friendly.
It's just a little overlooked. In a way, I think I'd like it to stay
that way. I hope that the tourists don't start swarming to the Beaver
State. I hope the drivers keep on speeding down the interstate, missing
Oregon completely on their way to California. That way it can remain my
little secret. The forgotten state.